English Voodoo
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: Knowledge is sexy, knowledge is pain. Jeff Noon.He lusted after knowledge, and he recieved it, but at what price?
1. Knowledge is Sexy

A/N: Don't own them. The title and the chapter titles come from the Jeffery Noon novel Vurt.Amazing novel, everyone should read it.

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_If you truly hate your parents, the man, or the establishment, don't show them by getting wasted and crashing your car into a tree. Show them by outearning them, out living them, and **knowing more** -Henry Rollins_

It was warm and bright, and he sat huddled under the only shade provided, under the tall, rigid tree, nose-deep in a book. He heard the laugh, and he couldn't help the small smirk that crossed his face. He'd be found, but he didn't care. He turned his attention back to what he was reading, but it was only a sort of half-attention. It was too warm, too beautiful of a day to really pay attention. The laugh got closer and closer, until there was a tall, blond adonis in front of him. "Severus, sitting here with a nose in a book, what else is new? We're trying to get a makeshift quidditch match going, and we're one short, come on, play with us." He couldn't help but smile back. The man was, if nothing else, charismatic. "Why do you read so much?"

He shrugged. "I like to read. Like learning."

"Sound like a bloody Ravenclaw." Lucius plucked the book out of his hand, reading the cover. "Although I suppose Ravenclaws don't read all about the darkest of dark magic." He shrugged again. "Slytherin to the core, even if you do like learning."He grinned, catching the broomstick that was tossed to him, leaving the book aside.

He forgot all about it while they played, his mind on the game instead. It was reading for fun, for enrichment. His schooling was done, but yet, it felt unfinished. He still hadn't learned everything he wanted to. He supposed he never would. It was something Lucius didn't understand. He wanted to know everything there was to know, to learn until he couldn't, until his brain was filled with everything to know. And he wanted to be able to use it. He wanted to learn every single dark curse out there to use them against a family who had thrown him away like refuse. He wanted to learn every spell out there to bring someone back from the verge of death just so he could repeat it over and over again.

He wanted to learn how to make himself famous, how to give himself power that he craved. How to become everything that he dreamed of. And a boy locked in a room, with parents that forgot about him, caught between two worlds has much to dream of, because he has nothing but his imagination as a friend. He wanted his dreams to be fulfilled. And learning would do that, knowledge would do that, he'd learn it all and use it all.

The match ended, and he came slowly back to earth, not quite wanting to leave the clouds, but doing so anyway. Flying was freedom. There was freedom here in the Malfoy gardens, there was freedom to be who he was, to not be looked down upon. Lucius accepted him, counted him as a friend. He collected his book to the curious look of Lucius. "What is it with you and books anyway? Why do you want to learn all this stuff, you're done with school, you have a whole summer before you really have to worry about going out and making a living, why waste it in books?" He shrugged.

"I-I just want to know everything there is. Dark magic, it's fascinating-" Lucius laughed.

"What would you do to learn more of it?" He thought for a second.

"Anything."

"Anything?" His friend questioned, and he nodded.

"Look, I think I know a guy-" Even at seventeen, completely unrefined as of yet, Lucius Malfoy could make anyone do what he wanted. All it took was his mentioning "unlimited knowledge" and he was hooked. After all, the road to hell begins with a single step.

He was entranced by it, from the first. It was one of his most distinct memories, despite how hazy everything had been. The nervousness, the apprehension as he found himself in a field, surrounded by about twenty others, all as nervous as he was. Not Lucius, he'd been here before, he knew how it worked. The Dark Lord had appeared, and they had all bowed down. One by one they were called, one by one they were asked why they were there, why they were joining. There were the ones that said that they believed in the cause, that mudbloods were filth, should be eradicated.

He didn't exactly echo those sentiments. He'd never been one for senseless violence. Senseless violence lead to revenge. But he did agree that mudbloods were far from fine specimens of breeding. Then again, so was he, but no one knew that. It was his little secret. Sure, he'd come up with his own moniker, pointing it out, sure, the little boy with the hyperactive imagination had big dreams, but he kept them all to himself, he kept his dreams, kept his secret, to himself.

There were those who were there who claimed they wanted riches, wanted power. He was the one that swallowed hard, walking up to the Dark Lord, kneeling down deep, staring his new master in the eyes, and answered that the one thing he wanted most out of joining the Death Eaters was knowledge. Knowledge would lead to power. He had the distinct feeling that the Dark Lord could read his mind-and indeed, he was. The Dark Lord could see his thirst for knowing everything he could, and using it against those he hated.

"Indeed, boy. Your thirst for knowledge will be slaked, if you follow me." And the Dark Lord was true to his word, he always was at first. He didn't care that he was being used as a pawn, someone to learn everything the Dark Lord wanted him to know so that he could be useful, later. He was quite content to be a pawn, learning everything he could, every curse, every spell, everything. He was quite content to torture a man who had tortured him, leaving him to die. He was quite content to put any sense of morals he held by the wayside to learn.

He was wrapped around the little finger of higher intelligence, he had been lured in by it, was placed under it's siren song. It was more beautiful than a woman to him, he needed it more than any carnal pleasure. Knowledge was a carnal pleasure to him. It was what he lusted after, it was what he loved more than anything, more than he could ever love any woman.

He had been promised knowledge, and he had received it, and he would do anything to stay attached to that constant mainline of information. It was better than any drug to him. He did do anything for it, the same way a junkie did anything to get their fix, he was willing to kill for it, and he didn't care. He'd been so wrapped up in the allure of it, punch-drunk on it, the same way the others were with their commanding power. He didn't need to be put in charge of others to have power. He commanded it by knowing more than the others.

He never thought that knowledge could hurt. Stupid, naïve boy.


	2. Knowledge is Pain

A/N don't own them, yada yada yada

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_Ignorance is bliss -Anonymous_

It was cold and dark, and he sat huddled under the only light provided, under a tall rigidly standing floor lamp, nose-deep in a book. He wanted to forget about what was going on around him, what was happening. He wanted to block out the laughter ringing in the hallways, pinging off of the old, damp stone. He didn't deserve to be part of such a happy place. He didn't even know why he ran here of all places, there were so many others he could have gone to. He could have left the world entirely if he was so disgusted with himself.

But he had fallen in love with the world. He had invested so much time, so much learning into this world, that he wasn't sure he could function without magic. He was sure he could get by, if he needed to, but he had no proof of education, he hadn't had maths, he hadn't had history, not in the sense that any sort of muggle school would like, not since he was ten years old. He needed this world, he needed to cling to it, no matter how painful it was.

No matter how much it hurt him. It had been his choice after all, he had no one to blame but himself. He wanted to, he wanted to blame Lucius for dragging him there, but really, his friend had done nothing of the sort. He wanted to blame his father, for the all-consuming hatred that had pressed him into learning how to remove his father. He wanted to blame his mother, for being a part of this world, for introducing it to him. He wanted to blame Black, and Pettigrew, and most of all, he wanted to blame Potter for why he was here.

But he couldn't to think of blaming Potter caused his stomach to churn. He wasn't so entirely vile of a man that he could think ill of the dead, especially not the recently dead. Especially not those that he had helped to kill, even if he hadn't said the words himself, he was still responsible for the death of James and Lily Potter. And the thought sickened him.

It was, perhaps, why he had ran here, to this last bastion of hope in his life. It represented everything that he had wanted in such an untainted way. It was unadulterated learning, unadulterated knowledge. The opposite of the corrupted knowledge he had learned. He had been so greedy to learn, so eager to gain knowledge, no matter how dark, he had allowed himself to be blinded to all the awful things he was doing.

It wouldn't have been so bad had his conscience not suddenly awoken while he stood to the side, watching as Godric's Hollow was destroyed. It was the last straw. He had contemplated it before, he had gotten as far as Dumbledore's door before hearing the prophecy, before that bitch Trewlawny had ruined it for him. He wanted to blame her, for causing him to be responsible for a death. Until then, he had not had to worry about blood on his hands. Until then he had functioned in a purely advisory fashion, learning everything he could, and manipulating that knowledge to the use of he who had provided it to him.

He had enjoyed the knowledge, he had loved being in control of everything. He loved being able to hold it over his father's head, that he could kill him in a split second, and bring him back to torture him over and over again, had he wanted to. And somehow, that had been more gratifying than actually killing, actually torturing the man, watching the man who had made his childhood a living hell quake in fear of him had been all the gratification he had needed.

But now, he had learned the price of that knowledge. He had tasted the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and he had been exiled from the garden. He'd allowed the serpent to lead him astray, rather literally. He'd never been a religious man, but his father's forcing him through Sunday School for the formative years of his life had drilled at least a few of the stories into his head. He'd been cast out from the garden, and had this sin hanging over his head now.

He blamed knowledge, it was the only thing he could. It had lured him in, ensnared him, wrapped him up in it, and hurt him, destroyed him. It was knowledge that had brought him here, grovelling, hurt, destroyed, a broken shell of what he had been. And Dumbledore pitied him, he knew that was what the emotion was, pity. He had learned it well enough. He was the poor boy who'd made a bad decision because of a bad life, and he should be pitied.

The only thing he had to blame the pain that he had found himself in was knowledge. That was the only reason he was here. He had gone questing for knowledge, to learn everything he had, and he had let this quest for knowledge go too far, he'd let it consume him until there was nothing left of him but a hollow, broken shell.

He'd been offered the job out of pity, Slughorn had been looking to retire, and this gave him the excuse to. And it gave him the chance to be pitied, and taken under Dumbledore's wing, to be coddled and nursed back to health. All because he wanted knowledge.

He tossed the book he was reading aside, it disgusted him. It was the reason he was here. It was the reason why he had the damn mark on his arm, it was the reason why he was in this castle paying his penance for what he had done instead of doing something useful in life. All he had wanted was knowledge, but he had learned that knowledge comes with a price, that nothing in life, not even learning comes without a price.

He would have been better off in the muggle world, with only an elementary education of how that world works. After all, the ignorant are too dumb to see how horrible their lives are. The intelligent are those that can see their lives in all the misery and realize how horrible of a person they have become. The stupid live happily in their mediocre jobs, not knowing any better. Ignorance is bliss, knowledge is pain.


End file.
